


Drunk and Disorderly

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [25]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Feels, Confrontations, Drunkenness, F/M, Hurt Steve, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The peaceful evening at the Tucker household is shattered by a banging on the door......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk and Disorderly

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from Petersgal, who I really don't know what I'd do without, as she gives me all these great ideas!! 
> 
> "so making my brain work hard here for a prompt for you and came up with this one...
> 
> " malcolm is enjoying a wonderful peaceful night in with sam when the doorbell rings and all hell breaks lose..so,hope thats a challenge :)"
> 
> This little story follows on more or less directly from 'Down and Out' where Malcolm is shocked to find his old adversary lying in the street and agrees to help him.......

DRUNK AND DISORDERLY 

One of Malcolm's favourite times of the day was story time.  
Stupid really, but there it was.  
Three little expectant faces, fed and bathed and in their pyjamas.  
Eagerly anticipating.......they loved it as much as he did.  
Snuggled all in one bed....Jamie's......so that they could see the illustrations.  
Malcolm in the middle, back supported against the headboard, the boys one side, Grace the other, the book leaning open on his bent knees.  
He did all the different voices, made them laugh.  
Jamie would constantly ask questions, Robbie listened with his thumb in his mouth and Grace knew the story off by heart, and if he said a word in the wrong order she would correct him.  
It was HIS time.  
It gave Sam a few precious minutes to herself at the end of what was usually a hectic day.  
She could sit, have a cup of tea, read, or just relax. While Malcolm read to them and settled them down to sleep.  
It was a peaceful, wind down.  
On this particular evening, however, their domestic idyll was rudely shattered.

The hammering on the front door and yelling, made Sam jump out of her skin.  
"MALCOLM! MALCOLM! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! OPEN THE DOOR!"  
She ran along the hallway, before her husband could even reach the top of the stairs.  
Opening the door on the chain, it was kicked roughly and powerfully, and slammed wide.  
The chain broken under the force of the blow.  
Steve Fleming, drunk and belligerent, barrelled inside.  
He knocked Sam flat against the wall as he did so, her eyes wide with shock.  
"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE? MALCOLM! MALCOLM! " he was shouting at the top of his lungs, slurring and almost incoherent.  
His eyes roamed up the stairs, to where his erstwhile colleague now stood, on the landing.  
Malcolm was surrounded by three little people, clustering to him, six little eyes staring down at him from above.  
Jamie and Robbie one on each side, as close as they could be, to their father. His body shielding them.  
Grace, crying and clinging to his legs,  
"Daddy. Who is he? Is he going to hurt us?"  
Malcolm's face boiled.  
He was down the stairs two at a time.  
"Sam! See to them!" He barked, pointing back to the top of the landing, where the children hovered in fear.  
He grabbed Fleming roughly by the neck and shoulder of his jacket, and frogmarched him through the house, manhandling him out through the patio door at the back and into the garden.  
Closing the door firmly behind him, he hurled the drunken man onto a patio chair and stood over him menacingly.  
"What the fuck is the meaning of this? " he cried, his anger barely simmering, his hand clasped around the man's throat.  
"Fucking hell. Malcolm. Fucking hell." Fleming replied, struggling, face red, temples throbbing with drunken fury. "Lynda's fucking kicked me out. Fucking kicked me out. ME!!"  
Then he started to cry.  
Malcolm released him and stood back, regarding the sobbing mess, fiercely.  
"Fleming. You are welcome here anytime. But you do NOT come, in this state, and terrorise my wife and kids. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR. You fucking do not!"  
Bending, his face was inches from Flemings own, he was more livid than Steve had ever seen him at any time in Downing Street or since.  
Sam's face appeared at the window, but Malcolm motioned angrily for her to stay inside.  
"What the fuck were you thinking?" He roared, taking hold of the man by the shoulders, and forcing him to raise his eyes.  
"And you're drunk as a skunk. What the fuck have you had?"  
Fleming raised his bleary eyes and tried to focus on the visage in front of him.  
"Vodka."  
"How much?"  
"Dunno, lost track."  
"Right. So clearly a major falling off the wagon then. But that's not the issue. If you EVER, frighten my children, and go for Sam like that again, drunk or not, I will deck you where you stand. Do you hear me? Your head with part company with the rest of your miserable body."  
Fleming nodded, he was in no doubt that Malcolm meant every word.  
"Right. That's got that cleared up. Now GET inside. We'll have to sober you up."  
He lifted Fleming, none too gently and dragged him into the kitchen.  
Sam, standing beside the counter, regarded him with an air of distinct wariness.  
Malcolm, propelled him unceremoniously into a chair.  
"You have something to say to my wife, I believe." Malcolm growled.  
"Yeah. Sorry Sam.......really sorry." The slur in his voice mingled with his contrition and he bowed his head, as if unable to hold it upright any longer.  
"I should damn well think so." Malcolm began to calm, his voice losing it's ferocity.  
"So, come on then.....tell us the cause of this massive fucking bender. You were doing really well."  
"Bloody Lynda. It WAS all going well, I was staying at her place, then she starting drinking again, and we had a massive row, and she kicked me out."  
"So you went straight out and got pissed yourself?"  
"Fuck it all Malcolm, have a heart, I couldn't help it."  
"Steve, you are your own worst enemy. I told you that Lynda was not going to be good for you, she's got too much history, and she's bad news. You'd be better off on your own."  
"She told me she loved me." He began to cry again.  
Sam reached forward and placed a coffee gingerly in front of him.  
"Thanks Sam." He sniffed, taking the cup and turning it, in shaking hands.  
He sipped the hot liquid gratefully.  
"Do you love her?" Malcolm enquired, one eyebrow raised questioningly.  
"I don't know. I suppose......she's just so.......so fucking destructive. Everything she does, it all seems to fall apart somehow."  
"What about Sandra? That we saw at AA? She liked you.......why did you turn her down? She was nice."  
Steve laughed somewhat manically.  
"She fancied YOU!"  
Sam tried to disguise a smirk.  
"Don't be daft.......you twat, she came over to ask me if you were on your own."  
"Did she?"  
"Yes, she did.......I told you. Don't you remember? I told you to give her your number. And what did you do.......end up with 'Lynda.I'm a complete fucking mess.Thomas'. Just what an alcoholic needs!"  
"Well it's all gone pear shaped now. So I got my comeuppance."  
"Well, she's done you a favour, Fleming. Now you can go back to your own place. Dry yourself out again.......and call Sandra. That's my advice."  
"All my stuff is at Lynda's."  
"Oh for fucks sake!!" Malcolm threw up his hands in despair, " I'LL go round there and get it tomorrow......okay?"  
"Thanks Malc. I appreciate it."  
"Not part of my sodding sponsor duties, but never mind!" Malcolm sighed, glancing at Sam, who frowned in return.  
"Steve? Have you eaten anything?" She asked, moving to stand at her husband's side.  
He looked up, his face still wet with tears. He shook his head.  
"You're a lucky bastard, Tucker......you know that?" He said indistinctly, his words running into each other.  
"Yeah, I do as it happens.......Come on, let's get you washed up, then you can eat, and kip down on the couch till the morning, sleep it off."  
"I don't know what to say. I'm really sorry. I am really sorry. Malcolm. Sam."  
Malcolm lead the drunken man away, glancing shamefacedly at Sam as he passed her.  
"Tomorrow, when I've got your stuff, I'm coming round yours Fleming, you cunt, and if I find one single drop of booze, there'll be trouble."  
"I emptied it all down the sink......you were there......"  
"Okay. Do I need to ring St. Catherine's? Or are we saying this is a minor blip and you're not going to repeat it?"  
"I'm not going to repeat it." He groaned, as Malcolm ushered him into the bathroom.  
"Fucking right you're not. That's why I'm your sponsor......because I'll not give you the soft soap. You're going to kick this, and you're going to get your head out of your arse and stop being a cunt. Got it?"  
"Yeah. Got it." 

Much later he and his wife stood together in the doorway, watching him as he snored loudly.  
Burrowed into the pillows on the sofa in their living room.  
"Will he be alright to be left there all night do you think?" Sam asked, as she leaned into her husband's side.  
"I don't think he'll know much until the morning. He'd had quite a skin full, it's affected him more, because he hasn't drunk anything for a while."  
"He'd been doing well, I thought."  
"Yeah.....but he got himself embroiled with that Lynda......she's trouble. I knew she wouldn't do him any favours."  
"It's not your place to manage his personal life as well as his drink problem, Malc!"  
"Tell me about it. But the two kinda go together with him. He wouldn't have listened to me anyway. He just thought I was being mean, but I could see that it wouldn't end well. Soon as I met her. The destructive type. Reminded me of my ex-wife!"  
"I sincerely hope we're not going to get Lynda turning up here in a state as well......I can't have the children witnessing scenes like tonight, Malcolm. It's just not on."  
"No. I know. That's what I told him. I think he's got the message."  
Malcolm placed a protective arm around her shoulder.  
"Come on, let's hit the hay. I'm knackered." 

The banging headache and sandpaper mouth that Steve Fleming had the following morning, were not to be believed.  
Sam had the children off to school before he surfaced. The door to the living room firmly closed.  
She was determined that her little brood should not see him, and since she could not contrive to have him gone by the time they were up and about, she made quite certain the twain did not meet.  
Malcolm sorted his friend out himself.  
Getting him showered and fed and out of the house.  
Once back at Flemings flat, Malcolm gave an ultimatum.  
"Right. Listen to me Steve. I'll see you at the AA meeting on Thursday. Make sure you're there. And make sure you're sober......or else. Okay?"  
"Yeah."  
"Don't look so fucking shame faced, for Christ's sake. You had a blip. You fell off the wagon, it happens. Just make sure you don't repeat the 'turning up at my place shitfaced'.......do you understand? If you want me you call, and I'll be there, doesn't matter what time of day or when.....but you don't fucking do that to my kids.....or my wife.....I won't have it."  
"I am sorry Malcolm. I fucking don't deserve what you're doing for me, I really don't."  
"Oh shut up you tosser. I told you I'd help you and I will. I stick to that. But you don't drag my family into it. They are more important than you. Get it?"  
"Yeah."  
"Have you any food in the place?"  
"No."  
"Right. I'll go shopping as well then. I'll drop it back when I've collected your things."  
"Tell Lynda....."  
"I'm not telling her anything......I'm getting your stuff then I'm getting the fuck out of there......I'm not getting involved with your sordid love life......Malcolm Tucker draws the line at that, and being an agony aunt is definitely on the other side of that line!!"  
"Fair enough." 

Story time this evening was much the same as usual.  
Except that young Jamie remarked,  
"That man isn't coming back is he?"  
"No, son. He isn't."  
"I didn't like him Daddy, why did he come?"  
"Because he was sick, Jamie, and he needed Daddy's help."  
"Why was he shouting?" Jamie tucked himself in closer to his father.  
"Because he was upset. Sometimes adults get upset, the same as you do, when things go wrong."  
"Do you ever get upset Daddy?"  
"Sometimes, yeah. But I've got mummy to help me, he didn't have anyone."  
"So he came to you."  
"Yeah. He came to me."  
"Why?" Jamie's favourite question, Malcolm thought.  
"Because I said he could. If ever he needed to."  
His astute son, seemed to digest this information.  
"What story are we having tonight?"  
"I've a new one for you, we're going to read it a chapter at a time."  
The eldest Tucker looked excited.  
"What is it?"  
"Peter Pan!! "Malcolm replied, and drew his little ones in closer to listen.

"All children, except one, grow up......" He began.


End file.
